


Hi I'm Here to Sin

by Beans (ChaseTheFreakinStars)



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, I'm not adding anymore tags to this, Individual Warnings in Author's notes, Interspecies, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Troll and Gumm-Gumm Cultural Differences, Troll and Human Cultural Differences, Various AUs, lots of headcannons, paint is sexy, shiny stuff is sexy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9406859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaseTheFreakinStars/pseuds/Beans
Summary: Hey I'm back with shipping one shots because long stories with plot obviously aren't my thing.This is mostly prompt driven. Individual prompts, pairings and warnings are in the author's notes.EDIT 1/25/17: Warnings added to individual chapters, tags cleaned.





	1. Christmas - Draal/Bular

**Author's Note:**

> 1,134 words of vaguely Christmas-themed troll erotica. Enjoy?
> 
> unbeta'd so if there's mistakes or it seems stilted that's bc I wrote this at 1am
> 
> Prompt for this chapter from http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Awkward attempts at being sexy, Implied Sexual content

Bular didn’t really understand the whole human concept of “Christmas”. Asking each of the human children separately had yielded wildly different results, ranging from a lecture on various human winter festivals (Claire), to a surprisingly thoughtful speech on family and togetherness (Toby). All in all, as far as he could tell, human winter festivals were very, very different from troll winter festivals. 

So when he’d come to Blinkous’s library in hopes of finding something to read, the sight he was met with was…something.

There was a tree. Indoors. And covered in crystals.

Bular knits his brow in confusion and takes a cautious step inside, only to leap back when something crinkles underfoot. A look downwards reveals the perpetrator to be a sheet of brightly patterned paper, one of many that he now sees spread in sheets and rolls across the floor. A roll of unnaturally shiny gold paper catches his eye, and he cautiously picks it up before a clatter rises from the back of the library.

Bular skirts around the paper scattered on the floor and peers curiously over the mounds of books piled on a low stone table. It takes him a moment to spot Claire kneeling on the other side, muttering under her breath as she picks up several books from where they’d fallen to the floor. 

“Why is there a tree in here?” Bular asks before he can stop himself, startling Claire and causing her to lose her grip on the books, sending them back to the floor.

“ _Bular?_ What are you-,” She seems to catch herself mid-sentence and switches to answering his question instead, “It’s…A Christmas tree? Human tradition. Blinky liked the novelty.”

Bular casts an appraising glance at the “Christmas Tree”. “Novel.” He mutters before returning his attention to the human girl. “And this?” He holds up the shiny paper and tilts the tube back and forth slightly to draw her attention.

Claire’s face flushes in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “That’s all still here? I _told_ the boys to clean that up when they were done.” Bular raises a single eyebrow in response, causing Claire to sigh. “That’s wrapping paper. You wrap presents in it. You can have that, if you want. It’s cheap.”

Bular gives the tube a long, quiet look before shoving it into his harness with mumbled thanks. Before Claire can ask him if he’d been looking for something else, he turns tail and leaves, the use he has in mind for the shiny paper causing a blush to creep up the back of his neck.

Once he’s back in Jim’s basement with the house door securely locked, Bular begins setting his idea into motion. The basement has been enlarged along the wall under the staircase now that both a Trollmarket outcast _and_ an ex-gumm-gumm are living in it. The extra room is mostly curtained-off sleeping space and storage for the troll’s belongings, while the true basement has been retrofitted with makeshift couches and tall stone floor-lanterns. It’s on one of these couches that Bular is sitting, carefully taping strips of gold paper to his arms and waist.

Flimsy paper strips have completely replaced Bular’s leather kilt by now, and he struggles to keep from fidgeting and accidentally ripping them. Once he’s finished plastering himself in gold, he arranges himself carefully on the couch facing the sewer tunnel curtain. Draal probably won’t be back from training the Trollhunter for another few minutes, so Bular takes the time to put a suitably confident and flirtatious look on his face. If this didn’t tip Draal off that Bular had been propositioning him for days now, he wasn’t sure what would. (Not that Bular needed to solicit sex from his boyfriend, but old habits die hard.) 

Bular’s patience is rewarded as the sound of heavy footsteps echoes from behind the curtain. He can feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck as a dozen scenarios flash though this mind’s eye. He doesn’t have time to dwell on any of them though as the curtain swishes open.

Draal freezes in the entryway when he sees Bular laid out across the couch clad in nothing but strips of shining gold paper. His face turns as purple as a grape and Bular can’t help but puff with pride, face morphing into a lustful smirk.

Before Bular can utter a single word, a familiar and _definitely_ unwelcome voice pipes up from behind Draal. “Draal? Are you okay? Why’d you stooooo….p.” the last syllable of “stop” is dragged out as Jim Lake steps out from behind Draal and stares dumbly at Bular. 

Now it’s Bular’s turn to turn a mortified shade of orange, sitting straight up on the couch and covering his crotch with his forearms when he feels something rip. Jim, at least, looks suitably mortified as well, turning away and covering his face with a muffled cry of “Okay! Okay I did NOT need to see that.” Jim’s reaction manages to snap Draal out of his daze as he quickly shoves the Trollhunter back into the curtained tunnel. The clank of retreating armored footsteps can be heard over both troll’s embarrassed looks.

“You know, if you wanted sex you could have just asked me.” Draal finally blurts, his voice unnaturally loud after the awkward silence. Bular gives a tense snort of laughter and a small smile. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

Draal raises an eyebrow. “So getting walked in on by the Trollhunter is your idea of ‘Fun’?”

Bular’s smile turns to a grimace. “Believe me, that was _not_ part of the plan.”

“I know, I know, just poking fun.” Draal chuckles, making his way over to the couch Bular is on. “Paper? That’s pretty clever.” He remarks, tugging at a strip wrapped around Bular’s forearm and watching in surprise as it tears easily.

“I thought so too.” Bular mutters, watching Draal’s amusement as the other troll pokes at another strip.

“I’d love to help you out of it, if you’re still up for it, that is.” Draal purrs, ripping the paper in a single movement to punctuate his sentence.

Bular looks at him impassively. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for almost a week. If you leave me hanging now, come tomorrow you will find that metal hand of yours shoved very, very far up-,” Bular’s threat is cut off as Draal leans forward his forehead against Bular’s, horns and noses bumping gently in the process. 

They linger like that for a moment before Bular speaks up. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Draal coughs out a startled laugh and pulls away from Bular’s face. “All right, all right. Let’s get rid of this paper, shall we?”


	2. Villains Win AU - Onesided Bular/Blinky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request from anonymous on Tumblr. I really fucking hope 2600 words of porn was what you wanted
> 
> Villains Win AU by Musekicker on Tumblr
> 
> Once again this is unbeta'd and posted at fuck'o'clock at night so whatever.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Implied slavery, One-sided attraction, Powerplay fantasy, Masturbation

In hindsight, this had been a horrible idea, but then again Bular wasn’t known for making the best decisions. 

Like claiming Blinkous Galadrigal as a spoil of war to piss off the Trollhunter.

At first, the investment seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. They hadn’t _won_ the war yet, after all, so Bular had spent the better part of the first few months thwarting rescue attempts orchestrated by that whelp of a Trollhunter. Eventually, Bular had gotten so fed up with the child’s ill-fated attempts to rescue his mentor that he started dragging Blinkous around with him, instead of leaving him in one place.

That had been bad idea #2.

Blinkous was not called a scholar for nothing, and the amount of grizzly, horrifyingly detailed scenarios for Bular’s death that poured off that silver tongue was astonishing. Worse was the fact that Bular could not. Make him. Stop. Leading a war alongside his father was no small task, and Bular quickly found that tuning Blinky out was far more effective than trying to shut him up.

Which was why Bular could not place when exactly the death fantasies had turned to everything from obscure history to criticism of a lieutenant’s kilt. 

That was when Bular started listening again.

Victory came soon after that, with the defeat of James Lake Jr. and the imprisonment of Merlin’s Amulet, and Blinkous stopped talking.

Bular didn’t realize how much he’d miss the sound of Blinky’s voice until it was gone. So, when the time for Jim Lake’s execution came and the Impure Stricklander begged Gunmar to allow him to claim the boy instead, Bular vouched for him.

That was bad idea #3.

While Gunmar had allowed Stricklander to claim the younger member of the Lake family, it was at the price of the certainty of Bular’s loyalty. Everything he had done, and continued to do, was called into question. The army whispered about him in the halls, Human lover, they called him. Sympathizer. Even fraternizer, encompassing Blinkous in their disgusted looks as they did. 

The worst part was that calling him a fraternizer, at least, wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Bular wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started to fall for his captive, when his gaze started lingering on Blinky’s face and hands, or when the voice his mind conjured while pleasuring himself had turned to that smooth baritone. It was only when he came for the second time, seed spilling over his hand at the imagined urging and praise of one Blinkous Galadrigal, that Bular realized he had it _bad_.

Facing Blinkous after the realization was…difficult. Blinky still spoke to him, after he risked his reputation to spare the life of the former Trollhunter, though their conversations were more subdued. And they were _conversations_ now, Bular wasn’t dumb, just brash, and it wasn’t like anyone else would speak with Blinkous (except, perhaps, another captive).

It only took a few moments of tense conversation over Bular’s afternoon paperwork, a responsibility he was usually most eager to shirk, for Bular to realize that Blinkous was starting to pick up on the fact that there was something amiss.

Rather than wait for Blinky to potentially question his odd behavior, Bular places the pen he’s holding onto his desk with somewhat more force than necessary.

“We should go to the market.”

Blinky’s ears perk up at that, but he still looks decidedly pensive. “All…Right? Whatever you want, I suppose.”

“I’m going to buy you a book.”

 _That_ gets more of a reaction Blinkous, though Bular doesn’t see it, absorbed as he is in digging through the drawers in his desk and berating himself internally. _‘Damnit Bular what are you, a crushing yearling?’_

“I mean,” Bular clears his throat, pulling his hands out of the desk along with a small wooden box, “you have to have read everything I own a hundred times over, now, and I don’t want you getting bored and running off.” He flips open the box while rambling and begins silently counting out and removing gold coins from inside it. 

Blinkous snorts from the other side of the table. “If I tried to leave I’d either be killed or returned to you within minutes and you know it.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” Bular rebuffs, shoving the, now closed, box back into the desk and sliding the small collection of gold coins into a leather coin purse. “Now come on, if I have to stare at this paperwork for another moment I’m going to break something in frustration.”

Blinkous jumps to his feet as Bular gets up from his desk, he’s always a little too quick to comply, still to distrustful of Bular to assume that noncompliance would not be met with immediate force. The thought had never really bothered Bular before now, that Blinky didn’t trust him, but now it makes him grit his teeth and frown.

The walk to the market should have been an uneventful affair, but with nerves running hot and the desire to court in the forefront of his mind, Bular finds himself finds himself puffing and posturing at anyone who even glances in Blinkous’s direction. It’s as effective as it is humiliating, what with Blinky giving him confused looks as other Gumm-Gumms flee before his displays. At least it means that they make it where they need to go un-harassed. 

The market itself is a large affair, larger than Trollmarket even, and always loud and crowded. Bular grabs Blinky by the wrist as they enter, pulling the smaller troll close. There are too many trolls to posture at here, so Bular defaults to shielding Blinky with his bulk. If Blinky understands what that means, he doesn’t show any sign of it. 

The trip to a book peddler’s stall probably takes longer than it should have, but Bular’s eye keeps getting drawn to carts selling traditional Gumm-Gumm courting gifts, from ornamental weaponry to tiny tins of iridescent paint. It’s Blinkous who actually spots what they’re looking for and carefully walks a distracted Bular over to a booth piled high with tomes. 

The bookseller looks ecstatic that someone seems interested in his wears -and that someone being a ward of the son of Gunmar at that- and leaps at the chance to show off his more uncommon acquisitions. Bular releases Blinky’s wrist and tunes them both out as they haggle over titles and prices, returning instead to keeping vigilant watch. Nearby Gumm-Gumms hurry past when they see his posture, none of them wanting to risk their necks pissing off a seasoned warrior in the beginning stages of courtship.

They spend about twenty minutes glued to the stall as Blinkous acquires a small stack of books at a surprisingly low price. Bular only has to hand over one silver and one gold piece to cover the cost, and watches in fascination as Blinky squirrels the tomes away into the pockets lining his belt with practiced ease. Mission accomplished, Bular takes a hold of Blinky’s wrist again and merges back into the crowd.

The two make it almost all the way back to the entrance of the market before Bular finally breaks down and steers them towards a stall selling those tiny tins of paint. The price the vendor names for a tin of gold paint, six gold pieces, is outrageous, but Bular pays it anyways, hyperaware of Blinkous’s growing discomfort at being present for the exchange. Bular can’t fathom why, though, paint only means something when it’s on you, not when it’s sitting in a tin. The vendor seems surprised that he’s willing to pay the price, but takes the gold without comment. Bular pockets the tin with a nod and nudges Blinkous into motion as they finally make their exit.

Once they return home, Bular dismisses Blinky, telling him that he’s free to read his newly acquired books for the rest of the evening. Blinky, ultimately, takes the dismissal at face value and retreats to the quarters Bular had set up for him early on.

Bular too, heads for his quarters, shutting and locking the door tight. His emotions have him running hot, and he hadn’t purchased that paint tin for nothing. It was far, far too early in any courtship to gift his chosen partner paint, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it himself. 

Bular’s quarters are surprisingly small, though the effect is more “cozy” than “cramped”. The bed, a traditional, low-slung oval-shaped thing made of stones and piled high with fabric, dominates most of the space. The wall next to the door has two shelves along it, one covered in personal affects and the other in weaponry, while the far wall, on the other side of the bed, is covered floor to ceiling with a mirror. The mirror was a creepy, if effective way, to make sure he didn’t have any unwelcome guests without turning over, should he wake facing it. 

Now, the mirror will serve a different purpose, paint was always more fun to apply when you could see what you were doing. Thoughts abuzz and a drop of arousal already bubbling in his system, Bular climbs onto the bed and lies back before fishing the tin of paint out of the coin purse tied to his kilt. He glances back and forth between his kilt and the tin for a moment, deliberating how to begin, before shrugging and carefully popping the lid off the tin.

The gold paint shimmers almost unnaturally, a rainbow of colors running through it as Bular tilts the tin. It’s damn beautiful, and Bular makes a mental note to purchase more paint from that vender sometime. After another moment of appreciating the paint, Bular dips a single claw into it and turns to the mirror, studying his slightly flushed appearance. Now comes the hard part. Fantasizing about a partner painting you was always difficult when you could see full well that it was your own hands doing the painting, but it wasn’t anything a little concentration couldn’t fix. Even better that this particular fantasy was an easy one to conjure, drawn by it as he was. 

It takes only moments for small, blue hands to replace his own black ones in the mirror. One of the blue hands rises, first two fingers coated in gold paint, to draw a sharp line across Bular’s cheekbone. The sensation makes him shiver, face flushing even further as a second hand paints an identical line across the opposite cheekbone and places a single dot of paint at the corner of his eye. 

Three strokes in, and Bular is already almost half hard. This was going to go a lot faster than anticipated.

He shrugs the thought off quickly, returning his immediate attention to his fantasy. In his mind’s eye, three pairs of orange eyes admire their handiwork on Bular’s face before adding three dots, one above the other, to Bular’s chin. The hazy face smiles in triumph as a second pair of arms draws four lines of paint from Bular’s hips to his chest and loops them together in the center. Bular’s full body shudder is stilled by the weight of the first pair of arms on his shoulders, paint smearing without direction on the ridges. 

“Relax.” The familiar voice soothes, tone firm yet humorous, and Bular can feel his face heat impossibly more with embarrassment at his own fantasy. The blurry face flashes him another smile as the hands on his shoulders slide off, trailing down his chest as they go. Now Bular can feel all four hands fiddling with the ties on his kilt, and lets out a sigh when they succeed in baring him to the open air.

Bular’s erection is almost painfully hard now, bobbing up towards his stomach now that it’s freed. A bead of faintly luminescent precum gathers at his slit and runs down his length. Fantasy Blinky’s blurry visage takes in the sight appreciatively and places a hand on the crook of Bular’s hip, prompting a soft moan from the larger troll. 

“Someone’s excited.” Blinkous smirks as the thumb of the hand on Bular’s hip starts to rub circles into his pelvic cradle, brushing painfully close to the base of his dick. Bular’s hips stutter forward unprompted, and a second hand grabs the other side of them, forcing him to still.

“Ah-ah, not so fast. I didn’t say you could move, did I?”

Bular shakes his head, hips trembling beneath the firm touch but otherwise immobile.

“Answer me when I speak to you.” The voice takes on a warning edge as thumbs press into his hips to the point of being painful, and Bular immediately answers, aloud this time.

“Yes sir.” The mumbled words cause an unexpected coil of heat to rise in his lower stomach.

“Yes what?” Blinkous asks, pressing harder and earning a grunt from Bular. “Yes, you didn’t say I could move, sir.” Bular lets out a relieved groan as the pressure from the thumbs disappears. “Good boy.” Blinkous purrs, the sound going straight to Bular’s groin.

“Do you think you can keep being a good boy for me, Bular?” Blinkous breathes, thumbs returning to rubbing soothing circles on sore hips. Bular manages to choke out another “Yes sir” and Blinkous smiles another hazy smile. “That’s good, because remember, good boys get rewarded,” a hand raises from and wraps around the base of Bular’s dick, prompting a startled gasp of arousal, “but bad boys get punished. You don’t want me to punish you, do you?” The hand around his dick slides up his length, milking out more precum before swiping it off his slit with a thumb.

“N-no sir.” Bular sputters, thighs shaking as he resists the urge to thrust. Blinkous hums appreciatively and circles his slicked thumb just under the head of Bular’s erection, prompting more precum to emerge and coat his hand. Once he’s appropriately slicked, Blinkous begins leisurely stroking at first, but eventually picks up the pace, squeezing gently at varying intervals. Bular doesn’t even try to hold back the sounds he makes, soft grunts and groans echoing through the air. Distantly, he can hear the sound of Blinkous’s voice, but is too lost in the sensations to make out the words.

It’s not long before he can feel his peak approaching, orgasm lurking in the pit of his stomach. The sensation serves as a reminder to pull himself out of his lustful haze enough to solidify fantasy Blinkous again for the finale. 

Blinkous’s hazy smile is confident, and his gaze lustful as he takes in the sight of Bular coming undone at his hand. The imaginary gaze pushes Bular onto the razor’s edge and he sucks in a breath, waiting for the command.

“Come for me.” Blinkous whispers, hand squeezing the base of Bular’s shaft firmly in encouragement. Bular comes obediently with a cry, hips guttering and thighs shaking with force as his dick paints luminescent strands of seed across his stomach.

Thoroughly spent, Bular leans back fully, releasing his softening length and allowing fantasy Blinkous to fade from his mind. Distantly, he realizes he probably spilled the paint all over, but can’t bring himself to care.

He’ll clean up in the morning.


	3. ??? - Human!Blinky/Aaarrrgghh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another anonymous request from Tumblr finished at fuck'o'clock....wow
> 
> I couldn't think of a...defining word? to put as the title so vague question marks it is.
> 
> I have three other fics in the works and this is the only pairing I actually ship...god....
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Human/troll frick frack, a lot of awkwardness, anal sex, unsafe sex? UNREALISTIC sex is more like it tbh... but whatever I do what I want and I tried to make it accurate.

It was inevitable that they’d try this.

Blinky fumbles nervously with the buttons on his shirt, brown coat already discarded to a corner of the room. Above him, Aaarrrgghh gives a reassuring rumble, reaching out to gently card his fingers through black hair. Blinky leans into the touch unconsciously as he pops the final button free from its hole and shoves the shirt off his shoulders, shaking his arms to get it off the rest of the way. 

He lets himself relax for a moment, then, shivering slightly against the cool air. He and his mate are sitting on a low, cloth covered bed, facing each other. Aaarrrgghh practically looms over Blinky, since he’d been watching him strip with genuine interest.

Oh, by Deya’s grace they were actually going to do this, weren’t they?

Blinky lets out a sharp, sudden laugh and leans forward to bury his hands in Aaarrrgghh’s chest ruff, ducking his head to face their tangled legs on the low bed. Aaarrrgghh purrs again and _good lord_ Blinky can feel the vibration all the way though his arms and into his chest. The hand in his hair runs down the back of his shoulders and traces down his spine, driving home the fact that Aaarrrgghh’s hand can now span the entirety of his back from thumb to pinky.

A low moan falls from Blinky’s lips as the hand pushes down his waistband to brush against his tailbone, startling both individuals. Aaarrrgghh pulls his hand away for a moment, concerned, but re-places it when he confirms that the only scents coming off Blinky are startled bemusement and a strong wave of arousal. The return of the touch has Blinky fisting his hands in Aaarrrgghh’s fur, trying to steady himself against the unexpected intensity of the feeling of Aaarrrgghh’s rough fingers against his human skin.

Blinky breathes, trying to calm himself, and Aaarrrgghh hums low and soothing in his chest. Once Blinky feels decidedly calmer, he carefully disentangles his hands from Aaarrrgghh’s fur and starts deliberately fiddling with the buckle on his belt. Why on earth did humans insist on making their clothes so needlessly complex? 

Luckily, adrenaline is on his side, and he makes short work of the belt and his fly. That done, Blinky hooks his thumbs into his waistband and pulls his pants and boxers down in one move. Of course, since he’s sitting, he has to lean back to get the pants off his legs, but Aaarrrgghh is happy to help with that. The Krubera carefully places his free hand over one of Blinky’s when his mate has his pants halfway down his thighs, stilling his movement. Blinky’s eyes snap from his lap to Aaarrrgghh’s face, and he can feel a hot flush settle on his face at the arousal glittering in his mate’s green eyes. Without a second thought, Blinky releases his pants and scrambles to his knees to press his forehead against Aaarrrgghh’s. 

The intimacy of the gesture is blissfully the same, and Aaarrrgghh gently bumps his nose against Blinky’s as he works Blinky’s pants down to his knees. The hand still pressed to Blinky’s back slides down to cup his ass, and Blinky yelps when it curves deliberately lower, the middle finger nudging between his legs so Aaarrrgghh can lift him. 

Blinky’s hands shoot up automatically to twist into Aaarrrgghh’s fur for stability as he’s lifted so Aaarrrgghh can pull his pants the rest of the way off. Now completely naked, Blinky is set back down on his knees. Both of them pull their heads away and lean back for a moment, taking the other in.

Blinky suddenly feels highly self-conscious with his mate’s intense stare fixed on him, and he curls in on himself slightly, face red from his forehead to his chest. His hands flutter over his crotch nervously before deciding to settle in his pubic hair, one of few anatomical features to translate from troll to human without too much change. Accidentally tugging on the hairs hurts, more than it ever had as a troll, but the grounding sensation of a familiar feature helps with the nerves immensely.

In fact, Blinky is so focused on what his hands are doing, that he doesn’t notice Aaarrrgghh’s hands until they’re pulling him into the larger troll’s lap. Blinky squeaks in surprise and tilts his head back, mouth open to speak.

“Aaarrrg-,” Blinky starts, and _wow_ his voice is a lot rougher than he thought it’d be, but is cut of when Aaarrrgghh bends down and firmly presses their foreheads together. The warmth and the familiar, mossy smell of his mate, though subdued through a human nose, helps to loosen the knot of worry that had started tying itself in Blinky’s chest. His hands unconsciously rise from his lap to Aaarrrgghh’s face, sifting through the thick green beard that frames it.

A drop of something warm and wet hitting his leg startles Blinky out of his reverie, making him pull away from Aaarrrgghh enough to look down and see what-

Oh.

_Ohhhhh_.

Aaarrrgghh’s dick is out, the stiffness of his erection parting the armored plates that normally kept it hidden. The warm substance that had hit Blinky’s leg turns out to be precum, a new bead of which is already forming at the head of the cock.

Two things happen in that moment; one, Blinky feels the first hard stab of true arousal in his gut, which goes straight to his own dick; and two, he realizes that he hadn’t been able to smell Aaarrrgghh’s arousal. Which, in hindsight, was probably why he’d been so nervous. He’d been looking for validation from a scent he could no longer discern, and when he couldn’t discern it, his own arousal dampened. 

A grey hand appears in Blinky’s line of sight and gently guides his head back into the bunt. Blinky allows himself to be re-directed without comment. The hand cradles his face for a moment before tracing down over the front of his shoulder. Stone fingers scrape lightly against Blinky’s clavicle, and his whole body shivers in response, a soft, surprised cry escaping him. Aaarrrgghh hesitates again for a moment, but a word of breathless encouragement from Blinky has him moving again.

The light touches Aaarrrgghh gives Blinky while mapping his new, soft body are electrifying. Every other touch has him shaking and moaning, and by the time Aaarrrgghh’s hand reaches his crotch, he’s already half-hard. Aaarrrgghh’s hand is far, far too large to wrap around Blinky’s small, fleshy member, so instead, he presses the heel of his hand onto it with exaggerated gentleness. 

“Oh _fuck_!” Blinky gasps, back arching and hips giving a stuttering thrust into the pressure. His legs fall open to give Aaarrrgghh’s hand more room as the troll grinds his palm in light, circular motions over Blinky’s dick and gronk-nuks, encouraging him to move. 

Blinky rolls his hips with his mate’s movements for a couple of minutes, indulging himself, before disentangling a hand from where it’s white-knuckling Aaarrrgghh’s beard to pat and push at the hand enveloping him. 

“Stop, Stop.” He hisses, hesitantly tilting his hips away from the pressure. Aaarrrgghh recoils as if burned, pulling his hand and head away from Blinky at the same time.

“Blinky hurt?” Aaarrrgghh rumbles, concern and a small amount of fear plain on his face. It takes Blinky a moment to register what Aaarrrgghh means, but when it clicks he quickly raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Oh no! No, you didn’t hurt me! It’s just-,” His gaze darts away for a moment, embarrassment making his cheeks flare hotter, “If you keep going on like that, this will be over very, very quickly.”

Realization dawns on Aaarrgghh’s face at Blinky’s explanation and he breaths a soft, relieved “Oh”. Blinky, on the other hand, closes his eyes and breathes in, settling his hands on his parted thighs. Once he feels a little more level, he opens his eyes and gives Aaarrrgghh a reassuring smile before trailing his eyes down to his mate’s still-hard erection.

It’s a lot slicker now, faintly glowing precum running down the front and over the simple ridges that line it. Which is good, because the small amount of clear, thin precum his own dick was producing was _not_ going to be enough to lubricate him for this part.

_‘You’ve done this a hundred times over, Blinkous. There’s nothing different about it now other than that you’re a little smaller, and a lot more sensitive. You’ll be fine.’_

Blinky takes another steadying breath before reaching forward and running the fingers of his right hand through the line of precum on his mate’s dick from the base to the head. Aaarrrgghh leans forward at the touch, any lingering tension leaving him as he exhales over the top of Blinky’s head, ruffling his hair.

With a practiced air, Blinky gently presses his thumb into the space just under Aaarrrgghh’s cock head and wraps his fingers around the rest. Blinky’s hand comes two inches short of closing around his mate’s dick, and while the difference isn’t that drastic, it’s still a little intimidating. He gives the dick a few careful strokes, the last couple of which have Aaarrrgghh rocking his hips into the sensation, before drawing away. 

Hand (and, consequently, Aaarrrgghh’s dick) now thoroughly coated in precum, Blinky leans back into the hand Aaarrrgghh still has around him and tilts his hips up. He’s no stranger to preparing himself, Aaarrrgghh’s fingers had been too big for the job even when they’d both been trolls, but the first go was always rough no matter how many times you did it. Blinky’s slick hand drops to the space between his legs with nervous care, first two fingers prodding gently behind his gronk-nuks until they brush against puckered flesh.

Blinky can feel Aaarrrgghh watching him intensely as he rubs small circles against his entrance, lubeing it and, hopefully, encouraging it to loosen a little. Once it’s as good as he can get it from external touch alone, he very carefully presses a finger inside himself, hissing through his teeth at the sensation. Blinky allows himself a moment to adjust before inserting another finger and gently thrusting them in and out, alternating with scissoring once he feels confident enough. 

It all goes a lot faster from there, a third and fourth finger following in quick succession. Expressions of discomfort morph into ones of familiar bliss as Blinky works himself as open as possible. He can feel Aaarrrgghh’s nose bump the top of his bowed head in a rewarding bunt and he moans, drawing all his fingers out of his ass at once.

The first thing he does after pulling his fingers out is straighten his back, wincing at the ugly popping sound his spine makes (probably not a good thing). The second thing is a little more in-depth, involving a lot of shuffling and getting his shaking legs underneath him. Luckily, Aaarrrgghh catches on to what Blinky’s trying to do and helps him, turning him over so he faces away from his mate on all fours. Blinky widens the stance of his arms and legs on the bed and locks his elbows to keep from falling on his face. Not that he would, of course, not with one of Aaarrrgghh’s hands now cradling his stomach and chest. 

Blinky can feel the warmth radiating from Aaarrrgghh as the larger troll drapes himself ever so carefully over his humanized mate. The touch of Aaarrrgghh’s slick erection against the curve of his ass makes Blinky draw a sharp breath, his own valiant hard-on bobbing between his legs. Aaarrrgghh leans back a little, redistributing his weight so he can use the hand he’d been holding himself up with to guide his dick without letting Blinky go.

The press of the tip of Aaarrrgghh’s cock against his gaping hole has Blinky instinctively unlocking his elbows and dipping his chest towards the bedcovers, offering his mate a better angle. Aaarrrgghh purrs appreciatively and rocks his hips forward with carefully-calculated gentleness, watching Blinky’s body language and scenting the air to make certain he’s not causing any pain.

The head of Aaarrrgghh’s dick pops into Blinky with little resistance, but Blinky still widens his stance and focuses on his breathing. The stretch is pleasant, and not all that different from when he was a troll. It’s not until Aaarrrgghh rocks his hips forward again, driving more of his length into Blinky, that the difference shows. 

Some part of Aaarrrgghh’s cock, one of the ridges maybe, bumps up against what can _only_ be Blinky’s prostate, making him see stars. He must have screamed, because he can feel Aaarrrgghh start to pull out of him, drawing the same bump against his prostate a second time. Blinky cries out again, and tries to put as much arousal and pleasure into the sound as possible. Aaarrrgghh takes the hint, luckily, and after giving Blinky a moment to recover, gently pushes forward until he has half his cock buried in his mate.

The steady force of the thrust pushes Blinky’s chest even closer to the bed, and Aaarrrgghh releases his grip on his own dick to lean over his human mate, newly freed hand holding him up. It only takes a few more careful thrusts for Aaarrrgghh to bury himself completely in Blinky, gronk-nuks slapping lightly against the smaller pair between Blinky’s legs. 

Blinky can feel the hot coil of orgasm in the pit of his stomach, now, and rocks back to meet every one of his mate’s thrusts. He can’t tell how close Aaarrrgghh is without the ability to scent him, but assumes that the way his thrusts pick up speed means he is. Every scrape of Aaarrrgghh’s cock against Blinky’s prostate has him crying out in bliss, mostly a mix of “ _Oh yes_ ” and “ _Aaarrrgghh_ ”. 

Aaarrrgghh is nearly bucking into Blinky now, grinding his hips at some points and thrusting at others. It ends up being the final straw for Blinky as orgasm rips through him, hot and intense as he comes untouched, sticky white strands of sperm spurting from the red head of his dick. Aaarrrgghh follows Blinky over the edge after another couple of thrusts, filling his human mate with much thicker, brightly luminescing seed. 

Blinky concentrates on breathing deep and even, still working on coming down from his high as Aaarrrgghh’s warm semen drips down his shaking thighs. Aaarrrgghh pants heavily above him, in an equal state of recovery, before leaning backwards, drawing his softening dick out of Blinky’s now decidedly sore ass. Both of them hiss from overstimulation, and Blinky squeezes his thighs closed against the feeling of semen dripping from his spent hole.

Aaarrrgghh immediately flops over onto his side, letting out a tired sigh before using the hand he has under Blinky’s chest to pull his smaller mate down with him. Blinky yelps when he’s pulled down, but instead of being upset, turns over as quickly as possible and buries his face in Aaarrrgghh’s neck ruff. They both stink of sex and sweat, and both of their lower bodies are covered in sticky, glowing fluid, but they’ve been in this exact situation enough to not care an inch.

Post-coital cuddling rapidly turns to post-coital napping, both parties thoroughly worn out. They’d have to clean up later, before meeting Master Jim, but that wasn’t for another couple of hours.

For now, they could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Since Draal says trolls don't kiss my headcannon is they do a headbutt thing called 'Bunting' instead


	4. Softcore A/B/O au - Bular/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from khapikat222 on tumblr, featuring their A/B/O headcannons.
> 
> This has been on my nsfw tumblr for a while now and it only now occurs to me that people here might read it. It's not currently fuck o clock am but I'm not editing this anyways. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Softcore A/B/O dynamics, consent issues (resolved), abduction/Bridenapping, reader insert, human reader, female reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, courting rituals

###### 

Either this was the best day of your fucking life or the worst. You weren’t quite sure yet.

Sure was terrifying though, in an electric sort of way.

You’re concentrating on holding as still as possible while the – thing? Man? Monster? Carries you by the back of your shirt. His teeth are scissored into the fabric, soaking it in saliva that makes every puff of his breath against your skin ice cold. He’s moving at a decent clip though the sewers on all fours, and god you hope he’s not taking you somewhere just to eat you. 

That sure would be a waste of a genuine monster encounter.

It takes a few more dizzying turns in the dark (damn it all, you wish you had a light. It’s dark as hell and you can’t see a thing) before squeezing though a crevasse that’s _definitely_ not part of the sewer systems. You wonder momentarily if you were even still in the sewers anymore when you’re dropped unceremoniously on your ass. 

The ground is dry, at least, and soft. Nice. Wherever you are is still dark as fuck though. The only light comes in the form of your captor’s molten red eyes as he shuffles around in front of you, muttering under his breath.

You’re left in tense silence for a moment before a shower of sparks from the general vicinity of your captor’s hands scares the life out of you. Two more showers of sparks and a muffled curse follow the first before something catches fire. The flame on the end of some kind of long stick illuminates your captor’s features momentarily as he raises it to some kind of lantern and pushes it inside. You barely have time to process the glimpse of high cheekbones and curved horns before the whole chamber is lit in an orange glow. 

It’s fucking stunning, and you’re not just thinking about the _piles of fucking gold and weapons_. 

The chamber is full of odd stone carvings, glowing stones, glittering gold, and strange foreign weaponry. The cloth you’re sitting on turns out to be piles of Persian rugs, delicately embroidered tapestries, and to your baffled amusement, weighted and electric blankets alike. Not to mention the 11’ of black granite beauty giving you a slightly hostile, if expectant, look.

All you’d seen of him during your nightly walk was a blur of black before he had a hold of you, and seeing him now, in all his glory, is frankly amazing.

“Oh no he’s hot.” You whisper ironically to yourself, knees drawn up to your chest as you examine him from the end of his tail to the tip of his strangely catlike nose.

“…Did you say something?” the voice that reverberates from his chest is low to the point of being unseemly, and you blink stupidly at him for a moment before answering.

“You speak English?” ooh. Nice one. Way to insult the giant rock monster’s intelligence.

To his credit, he only wrinkles his nose a little and narrows his eyes in response before shuffling closer. You don’t move, and maintain eye contact. He seems pleased with that, at least.

“Of course I speak English. I’ve been on this continent since it was first colonized.” He puffs out his chest a bit at that, looking pleased with himself, but your only response is a strained ‘huh’.

Silence descends again and you vouch for gazing awkwardly around at all the treasure before turning back at meeting his eyes. “My names is (y/n). What’s yours?” 

He looks surprised for a second and lets out a delightful little snort before answering you. “I am Bular, son of Gunmar, leader of the Gumm-Gumm army.” 

You blink at him stupidly, most of the last bit flying over your head. You make an executive decision to not ask.

“Bular huh?” you muse, less addressing him than the room in general, “You’ve got some pretty cool stuff in here, Bular.”

You can see him visibly perk up at that, shoulders tilting back and an unidentifiable glint sparking in his eyes. “It is yours as well, if you accept it.”

Your eyes widen at the offer. “Seriously?” you yelp, and a moment later deflate, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s the catch, no one offers stuff like this for free.”

He looks vaguely insulted by your accusation, and you bite your lip nervously in response. 

“There’s no catch. Do you accept it, or no?”

You look from him, to the piles of treasure, and back at him. “Sure okay. I accept it.”

The smile that breaks out across his face is both genuine and predatory, and it sends a shiver down your spine as he steps to the side, revealing the narrow entrance to the cavern. You give him a confused look, and he makes a grand gesture towards it, smile morphing into a pleased smirk before speaking a single word.

“ _Run._ "

You’re on your feet and dashing madly though the dark, roughhewn passages in an instant. This was all getting a little _too surreal_ and you’re about 80% sure you’re finally succumbing to sleep deprivation in the form of the most vivid monster abduction fantasy your stupid little mind could conjure. 

As per trend, you can’t see a damn thing once you’re outside the chamber, so you slap a hand against the wall and stick with it. You can’t hear anything behind you, but that doesn’t mean Bular isn’t following you. You know first-hand how fast he can move, even in the dark, and you hadn’t heard him sneak up on you the first time. In the end, you proceed as if he is following you, and are rewarded with a low, teasing chuckle that makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. 

You only have time to think _‘Oh shit, that’s a lot closer than I thought.’_ before you trip over an uneven patch of ground. The momentum sends you flying for a moment before you slam into the ground on your stomach with an ‘Oof’. Something clatters when your elbow hits it (ow) and your hand automatically grabs hold of it. You barely have time to identify the rounded, rust-coated surface as _pipe_ before you’re being flipped onto your back by a clawed hand.

Bular looms over you, glowing eyes setting his facial features in sharp relief. He seems to ooze triumph, and the flash of sharp teeth briefly illuminated by his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak sends a thrill of fear though you, so you make the only move you can.

You sit up, reel the pipe in your hand back, and smash it with all your strength across the side of his face.

The pipe makes contact with a sickening crack, and you can feel something give beneath it. Bular’s head snaps to the side and he pulls back with a surprised snort. A shard of something dry and cool drops onto your leg along with a dusting of powder, and you realize you must have caught one of his horns with the blow. 

You grit your teeth, shoulders hunched around your ears, as Bular shakes off the shock of the hit and turns back to you. You’re expecting anger, or at least annoyance, but instead he looks…proud? Proud and something else, more of that unidentifiable glint that had been there before. 

He’s back on top of you in less than a second, your back slamming against the ground as you’re forcibly relieved of your weapon. You wheeze loudly as the breath is forced from your lungs, and his grip mercifully loosens, allowing you to properly breath. You have exactly zero moments to recover before your head is pushed to the side and a pair of huge jaws closes around your entire shoulder. You sit as still as possible, barely breathing as you drown in the scent of volcanic ash and coffee grounds that permeates from the monster above you. 

You keep waiting for the shoe to drop, for his jaws to scissor closed and tear your shoulder to pieces, but the moment never comes. Instead, Bular lets out a single, low growl before unlocking his jaw and releasing your shoulder. Sharp teeth are immediately replaced with a swipe from his warm, wet tongue, that runs from the center of your upper arm, across half your collarbone, and up to your ear. The effect is dampened slightly by your shirt (which you’re sure is ruined by now) but it still makes you shiver. 

_‘What the ever-loving fuck.’_

He makes the growling noise again, and is it even a growl? You’re not sure. There are a lot of mixed messages and confusing body responses happening right now. At any rate, he makes the noise again and leans back, shifting his grip on your torso to lift you bodily and hold you against one massive shoulder. You’re reminded instantly of the way you’d sometimes carry cats, and your hands automatically grasp at the rough stone.

He carries you like that, tucked into his elbow and facing him, as he makes his way back down the tunnel. Thoughts buzz at a thousand miles-per-hour though your head as you try and fail to ignore your sticky neck and the absurdly strong smell of coffee and ash. 

You blink rapidly at the reintroduction of firelight as Bular squeezes back into the chamber. He gently drops you back onto the pile of fabric before sitting down as well, eyeing you with predatory appraisal.

“Okay _what the fuck.”_ You hiss, glaring at him in a mixture of exasperation and agitation. He looks confused, so you continue, voice raising in pitch. “What the fuck was that? Huh? What the hell is going on? First you offer me your weird treasure hoard, then you tell me to beat it, then you _chase me, bite my fucking neck,”_ at that, you grab the hem of your ruined shirt and pull it off over your head, leaving you in your sports bra, “and then take me right back to square one! Even if you are just some elaborate hallucination you still owe me some goddamn answers!”

Bular stares at you, dumbfounded, as he turns your words over in his head. “I’m courting you,” He says as if you’re a complete moron for not knowing, “what else could I be doing?”

You throw your hands into the air, sending your shirt flying in a random direction. Something crashes in that general direction, but neither you nor Bular turn to look. “Courting! Of course! It’s not like I could have _possibly_ interpreted it as some twisted game of cat and –,”

You cut off mid-sentence, forehead wrinkling in confusion as you think back on his statement.

“Wait a second, _courting_? As in, like, _seduction_? For sex and shit?” 

Instead of answering, Bular leans forward, arms on either side of you and his face close enough that you can feel his breath against your chest. “Do you want it to be?” he growls, eyes locked on yours.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You whisper, breath once again caught in your throat. If this isn’t a hallucination, you’re not sure if you want to know what it is, but one thing you do know is that damn if it isn’t right out of your wildest dreams.

“Yes. I mean _holy shit_ why not? It’s not every day you get a bonafide rock monster who wants to sleep with you, I mean,” You laugh, sort of hysterically, and run a hand through your hair, “who the hell passes up that kind of opportunity?”

“…I’m a troll, actually.” Bular mutters, looking vaguely freaked out by your actions but apparently willing to take you at face value.

You clap your hands together, leaning forward so you’re almost nose-to-nose with him. “A troll! Even better!” you place your hands on the sides of his face, and to his credit, he doesn’t pull back. The rock is unnaturally warm, maybe even a little too warm, and you notice for the first time that he’s…kind of shaking.

“…Dude are you okay?” you ask, sobering from your emerging hysteria. Bular’s look turns slightly guarded, but he answers you after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m in heat.” He hisses, “Or rut or what have you. I was hoping to get a head start on it, but I’m sure you can tell how that turned out.”

You blink at him for a moment, mouth forming a silent ‘O’. “Right. Okay. That’s fine! It’s nothing to freak out about!”

He gives you an insulted look. “I am not ‘freaking out about it’. I had only hoped to secure a mate before the brunt of the effects set in.”

“Well it’s a good thing you got one then.” You state firmly. Bular’s blank look makes you sigh, so you elaborate. “I might have acted a little loopy before, but that yes was, and still is, a yes y’know.”

You stare at each other in silence a moment longer before a possessive growl rolls its way through Bular’s chest. He pushes forward sharply with his head, knocking you backwards, before standing and moving so that he’s more over you. One of his hands pins your hip to the ground, while the other braces against the blankets over your shoulder. His face is back in the crook of your neck and he breathes deeply, scenting you. 

You let him do what he wants, for now. You’d read about old Alpha and Omega behavior in your college historical health class, since humans no longer experienced things like ‘heat’ and ‘rut’, and from what you can tell, this is textbook Alpha. He’s a little subdued, a little _respectful_ , if forceful, and the jagged edge of the crack in his horn that you feel when you reach up to grasp it reminds you why. Things like violent dominance displays had never been big in human culture, but if it got you brownie points with the troll, good on you.

The returning damp heat of Bular’s tongue against your neck has you snapping out of your thoughts and reaching further around to pat his face. “Hey, hey, hold on a second.” He growls again, shifting his weight above you, so you pat at him a little more firmly. “Just let me get the rest of my clothes off if you’re going to do the licking thing. I’ll still need something to wear at the end of the day you know.”

He growls again, only this time it’s more like a whine, but relents, only barely pulling away from you.

“Gee thanks.” You deadpan. Wriggling out of your sports bra, sweat pants, and underwear is a little difficult in such close quarters, and Bular’s unrelenting gaze on you throughout the process is both unnerving and arousing. You succeed with only minor entanglement before rolling your clothes into a ball and tossing it overhand as far as you can (it’s not very far). 

The moment you collapse back onto the blankets Bular resumes lavishing your neck and collarbone with his tongue. You’re reminded for the second time of cats before he licks obliviously lower, tongue swiping over one of your breasts. His surprised snort when you jump and squeak, nearly whacking your forehead against his horns, makes it obvious that he hadn’t known that would happen. 

“Shit.” You hiss, clinging to his horns as you try not to sneeze at the overpowering smell of coffee and ash. You realize now that it’s probably the scent of some kind of pheromone that would be pleasing if you had the same scenting abilities of someone with an active dynamic. But alas, it’s not doing much for you. The tongue returning its attentions to your breasts, however, does. Your legs and hips twitch under his grip as he licks you, spacing swipes with growls and gentle nips. You can feel yourself heating up under his ministrations, and let yourself writhe a little beneath him.

“Quit teasing already.” You hiss, pressing a hand against his forehead and trying to push him lower, towards the juncture of your thighs. Bular growls again, and resists for a moment before complying. Sort of. Instead of moving down, he pushes you _up_ , so he looms only over the lower half of your body. You can see him properly now, and drink in his ruffled appearance. You’re probably in a similar state, hair mussed and pupils blown with arousal, and you let your legs fall open without a second thought. As an afterthought, you jut out your chin defiantly, puffing out your sticky chest.

That gets you a grin, sharp teeth in sharp relief against his black skin, and you can see the challenge in it. _‘You sure you want these anywhere near your genitals?’_ You narrow your eyes and puff up more. _‘Bring it.’_

Bular chuffs in amusement at your antics before lowering his head and dragging a firm swipe of his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to your clit. The sensation has your hips bucking up to meet his mouth and your torso folding so you can grab the top of his horns. He purrs into you, content to lavish your pussy in licks, as he reaches down to his own waist to unbuckle his kilt. He pushes the kilt aside, much like you had with your own clothes, and brings his hand back up to you. You can’t see what he’s equipped with from this angle, but you’re a little too busy getting eaten out to care. He brackets your body with his forearms, pushing them under you just enough to afford him a better angle to press his tongue against your hole. His tongue is too big to fuck you with, unfortunately, but he does his best to get you loose and wet.

By the time Bular finally draws away, face covered in your fluids and with several strands of slick still connecting you, all you can do is whine in annoyance. You’d been getting close, damn it. He huffs a laugh, swiping his tongue across his lips and breaking the strands of slick, before leaning back, letting you slide off his arms. He gives you an expectant look, and you’re confused for a moment, brain still fogged by pleasure, before it finally clicks. Your eyes immediately drop down his chest to his waist, and you get your first glimpse of what you’d be dealing with.

His dick isn’t actually as big as you thought it would be. It’s still pretty big, but it doesn’t look like it’ll break you or anything. It stands fully erect and slick from the slit it’s poking out of. Internalized genitalia doesn’t really surprise you, especially considering how delicate it looks. It’s lined base to tip with thin, interlocking black plates, the edges of which are perfectly visible in the faint red glow of Bular’s slick and precum. 

You guess your expression must have been one of approval, because he lets out a purring growl and crawls over you, bumping your forehead with his and curving his spine to slot his hips against yours. His hips are wider than yours, a lot wider, so your knees end up squeezing the sides of his pelvis instead of your thighs. Bular doesn’t seem to mind, though, seeming content to press your foreheads together as his length twitches against your stomach. You dare to press a fleeting kiss to his upper lip, but he doesn’t respond to it. That’s a little disappointing, but you can’t have everything you guess. 

Your only warning is a single, heavy sigh before Bular rocks his weight back onto his haunches and grasps your hips with both hands. His forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pulls your hips away from him and lines up with your entrance. You bring your hands up to the backs of his horns as he makes his first shallow thrust into you. The pointed tip of his dick barely enters you, most of the thrust catching air, and he readjusts accordingly. The second thrust is more substantial, and you moan as the plates catch your rim as he draws back. You continue in this fashion for dozens of shallow thrusts, both of you panting and whining by the time you finally bottom out. 

Bular’s hips twitch as he holds himself still within you. You’ve never felt this full before, and the novel sensation of the plates twitching within you only adds to the experience. You clamp down on him experimentally, tightening your internal muscles against the plates and pressing them flat. His hips stutter forward and back almost in spasm, a rough, whining growl escaping his lips before he pulls his forehead away from yours and clamps his mouth over your shoulder again.

Bular’s thrusts are strong, but pattern less. Sometimes he pulls out of you almost completely before pressing back in, other times he can only rut against you. The pace is feverish, and in hindsight, that’s completely expected. He was in heat, after all, and probably desperate to get off. His pace does smooth out, eventually, and you start to squeeze down on him when he pulls out, greedy for the sensations the plates offer. 

When you notice Bular’s breathing start to grow heavier in your ear, you release one of his horns to reach down between you and fondle your clit. The added sensation brings even more moans to your lips as your hips twitch. Your hunch turns out to be correct as Bular’s thrusts devolve into disarray again as his orgasm approaches. You can feel your own end rising like the tide in the pit of your stomach, and cry out as Bular finishes without warning, grunting with effort into your shoulder. Your orgasm peaks and come crashing down in waves as Bular fills your cunt with glowing seed. Your pussy flutters around him before clamping down hard, but you can’t press the plates down this time.

Both of you sit as still as possible, basking in the afterglow. Bular releases his grip on your shoulder and laves his tongue across the nicks left behind in your skin. Most of his body weight is on one elbow, the other arm is still holding you up against him. You casually try to roll your hips away from his, you’re spent and tired and would like some personal space back, but it doesn’t work. Your rim catches on the flared plates on the base of Bular’s dick and he whines loudly, body shaking in overstimulation. 

“D-don’t move.” He hisses, voice rough and strained. “We’re going to be stuck like this for a few minutes.” 

“Did you _knot_ me?” You ask, voice just as rough. Damn, you could really go for a glass of water. You can feel the heat radiating off of the troll above you.

Bular snorts softly. “…yes. An unfortunate side effect of this particular season.”

“So I guess we wait, huh.” You mutter, staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes. 

“Yes, and after a short repose, we’ll have to go again.” He grits out, readjusting his weight on his free arm. 

“ _Again_?” You yelp, staring at him in surprise and horror. He manages to look a little guilty underneath his own fatigue, and nods in confirmation. “Unfortunately. While having a mate helps, my heat will still last for days.”

You groan in exasperation and slap your hands over your eyes, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. “I’m going to be _so fucking fired_ when I get out of here. You asshole.”

Bular doesn’t deny your statement, only letting out a bored sounding snort as he dozes above you. You glare at him for a moment before deciding that you might as well do the same, so you do your best to ignore the stickiness between your thighs and across your chest before drifting off yourself.

It was going to be a long couple of days.


	5. Dictatious/Gunmar - I'm sure you can guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /does a sick kickflip and dies/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Guntatious Cult group chat on Amino. Shoutout to you you crazy enabling bastards.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: I throw all semblance of making trolls single-sex into the wind, blood play, heat/rut play, size difference kinda, knotting, other things probably.

###### .

Gunmar’s behavior has been… _erratic_ recently.

Dictatious frowns to himself as he wanders the halls outside of Gunmar’s throne room. He hardly has to pay attention to his surroundings as he stews in his thoughts. The Darklands are as unchanging as they are gloomy, and Dictatious familiarized himself with these halls centuries ago.

In part, this is some of the reason Gunmar’s sudden change in behavior is so jarring. Things don’t change in the Darklands. Everyone’s fire - even their Dark Underlord’s, to an extent - had dimmed long ago. In fact, there were whispers that Gunmar’s drive had diminished even further with the capture of Killahead Bridge and the death of prince Bular. It certainly wasn’t an unfounded opinion, Gunmar had seemed to become even more listless in the face of his son’s death and the umpteenth thwarting of their plans for escape.

Days later though, Gunmar’s behavioral patterns had taken an unforeseen turn. Suddenly their leader was much more restless, often wandering about away from the central halls. It was concerning, and as Gunmar’s _trusted_ advisor, it was up to Dictatious to find out exactly what was working their Dark Lord up like this.

So what if he also happened to be _worried_? He and Gunmar were mates after all. He had a right to be worried when his mate started to avoid him.

Of course, to get a solid idea of what may or may not be causing Gunmar to ruthlessly avoid everyone and everything, Dictatious must first _locate_ said leader. Which is turning out to be much more challenging than previously thought. Gunmar is nowhere to be found, but Dictatious prides himself for having a nose that is not just for show. Gunmar’s scent is unmistakable after spending so many decades in close quarters with it; and in these stale halls, it only stands out all the more.

It doesn’t occur to Dictatious for even a second that there might be a reason Gunmar has decided to hole himself up in the darkest, mustiest corner of the stronghold. Not until he finally arrives in said dark, musty corner and is startled from his thoughts by the sounds of rough, strained panting.

“…My Lord?”

The blue glow of Gunmar’s markings spills from the darkened space and out into the hall. There are no sounds of acknowledgement from the room, only panting. Dictatious wrings his top set of hands together worriedly, crossing the other set over his stomach in the process. The panting doesn’t sound particularly healthy, but then again, Gunmar hadn’t sounded healthy since the early days of their imprisonment.

“My Lord, are you…alright?” Dictatious’s inquiry is louder this time, but still a bit hesitant. Another’s health is not something one comments on lightly here in the Darklands, even between the two of them.

Silence. The panting stops, but heavy breathing can still be heard from the room. “…Dictatious?” A snort and a wheeze accompany the rough word. “What are you doing down here? Why have you followed me?”

Gunmar’s words would have sounded harsh had they not been said with a certain degree of tiredness and an edge of frustration. While Gunmar does not sound particularly thrilled to have Dictatious here, he doesn’t sound particularly _angered_ to either. Which is a point in Dictatious’s favor. Hopefully that stroke of luck will last long enough to glean some answers from the frustrating brute.

“I need to speak with you, Gunmar. You’ve been avoiding our meetings.”

Silence again, as well as some brief scuffing. Dictatious folds his top pair of arms to match the bottom as he waits for whatever answer Gunmar sees fit to give him.

“Just get in here, Dictatious.” Gunmar sounds somewhat exasperated this time, and Dictatious hurries to comply. He quickly enters the room, first set of hands already raised placatingly and the second clasped behind his back. Whatever soothing or scathing remark he has prepared dies on his tongue as he takes in Gunmar’s current…state.

Gunmar is laid out on his side, an odd mix of exasperated anger, frustration, and embarrassment plastered across his face. The reason for this is rather obvious, as Dictatious takes in the sight of his esteemed leader; kilt cast off into a corner and the smell of arousal and rut rolling off him in waves.

The reason for Gunmar’s erratic behavior clicks into place in Dictatious’s mind around the same moment his own genitalia gives an interested twitch. This is…a lot. Gunmar’s flushed and tense body language; the sight of his mate’s dick, hard and weeping as the plates along it raise prematurely; and the hint of slick dampening the fur between his legs. It’s nothing Dictatious hasn’t seen before, but somehow it seems…more intense. Like he’s seeing it for the first time.

“…Ah. Well that explains a few things.”

Gunmar’s lip curls in annoyance as he narrows his good eye at his mate. “Dictatious.” The name sounds more like a warning as it’s hissed through gritted fangs. His tail lashes behind him, scattering small stones in its wake.

Dictatious takes the hint, lowering his first set of arms as he carefully crosses the room to Gunmar. He allows his eyes to rove over his mate’s exposed form as he does, taking in the sight of Gunmar’s tightly-wound and shivering body.

“You do know,” Dictatious says, stopping a few feet from Gunmar, “that had you just told me that this is what’s had you scratching at the walls recently, we could have gotten it taken care of long before now-.”

Dictatious barely has time to finish his somewhat chastising statement before he finds himself suddenly horizontal on the ground. The smell of Gunmar’s heat is nearly suffocating from this distance, as the larger troll pins him down bodily. Sharp, oversized teeth drag across stone skin, a threat and a promise all in one.

It’s enough to drive Dictatious absolutely wild.

Dictatious arches into the ghost of fangs, his hands grasping blindly for a hold on Gunmar’s chest and arms. Gunmar growls above him, pausing for a moment to bump foreheads with Dictatious before biting down into his shoulder. Dictatious hisses through his teeth as the scent of his own hot, thick blood fills his nostrils. Gunmar immediately sets about cleaning the mess he’s made, lapping the blood from Dictatious’s chest in long, indulgent strokes.

Dictatious, meanwhile, is now thoroughly cursing the name of whatever unfortunate soul invented _pants_ , because his should have been off…oh, _immediately_. The leather is proving particularly stubborn as he tries to pull them off without disturbing Gunmar.

That is, the pants are being stubborn right up until a single, blue tipped claw tears them from waistband to inseam. Dictatious squeaks as the claw comes dangerously close to eviscerating him, and takes the ends of a few pubic hairs off as well. Dictatious can smell his own arousal now, underneath his blood and Gunmar’s heat. The fur between his legs is already sticking together in clumps from how wet he is.

Gunmar headbutts Dictatious lovingly again before pulling back, rocking onto his haunches to get a good look at his debauched mate. Dictatious stifles a trilling whine when Gunmar’s presence moves back, instead allowing his legs to fall open invitingly. He tries valiantly not to wince at the sound of his pants tearing further as he does.

The state of his pants is quickly forgotten, however, as Gunmar’s hands close around his hips. With the same speed and strength as before, Gunmar pulls Dictatious’s lower half into his lap. The position gives Dictatious a bit of a headrush, but it’s not enough to distract him from the heat of Gunmar’s length pressed against him. Dictatious does whine this time as Gunmar starts rocking against him, smearing them both in glowing blue slick.

The slightly flared plates on Gunmar’s dick part the fur between Dictatious’s legs as he ruts rhythmically against him. The movement causes the plates to bump against the sheathed tip of Dictatious’s own dick, making the smaller troll jump and twitch with every pass. Dictatious squirms encouragingly to the time of Gunmar’s rocking, his legs splayed around Gunmar’s hips.

Finally, just as Dictatious is starting to get tired of simply grinding like this, Gunmar moves one of his hands from Dictatious’s waist to his thigh. Gunmar’s claws shred the remainder of the pants leg clinging to Dictatious as he pushes the limb up along Dictatious’s torso. The new angle exposes Dictatious fully, bearing his slick entrance to Gunmar’s unrelenting eye.

Gunmar lets out a pleased purr as he takes in the sight of his blue slick intermingling with Dictatious’s green. His lips curve into a wicked smile as he palms his length, making a cursory attempt at flattening the plates before pressing the tip to Dictatious’s tight hole. Dictatious lets his head fall back with a moan as Gunmar enters him, and screams when he thrusts in all the way. His hips jerk and his internal walls clench tightly as he has his first orgasm of the night. Dictatious pants heavily as he comes down from it, he hadn’t even thought he was that close.

Gunmar is stock-still above Dictatious, obviously just as surprised as his mate. He waits on a razor’s edge for Dictatious to relax around him before pulling back to thrust in again. The current pace is surprisingly smooth and steady, allowing Dictatious to actually start wriggling and bucking into Gunmar’s thrusts again after a moment. Of course, it’s when he starts properly reacting that Gunmar shifts his grip again, releasing Dictatious’s leg to brace himself against the floor. Gunmar leans forward over Dictatious, back arched beautifully as he grinds his hips against the place of their union.

The grinding thrusts are the only warning Dictatious gets before Gunmar begins to fuck him in earnest. The sound of their grunts and whines fill the room as Gunmar chases his own orgasm. It comes quickly, spurred on by the smell and taste of Dictatious’s blood as Gunmar re-opens the scabbing wounds with his tongue. Dictatious lets out a warbling purr as he feels the plates on Gunmar’s dick rise fully, locking them together and keeping any of Gunmar’s impossibly warm semen from escaping Dictatious’s body.

Dictatious squashes down the flash of disappointment he feels when Gunmar stops moving and rocking in orgasm. He’d been fast approaching his second peak, but now he’d have to wait for Gunmar to catch his second wind as well.

Or not, as Gunmar releases his remaining hold on Dictatious’s hip to rifle through the dark green fur above their locked genitals. Dictatious props himself up on his second pair of elbows to keep from sliding too far off Gunmar’s lap and moans as Gunmar finds the head of his still-sheathed dick. Gunmar rolls his thumb over the exposed tip like it’s a clit, lavishing Dictatious’s injured shoulder in licks and nuzzles at the same time. The excessive stimulation causes Dictatious’s length to fully extend into Gunmar’s palm after only a few passes. Gunmar switches from rubbing to wrapping his hand around it without missing a beat. He growls lowly into Dictatious’s ear as the smaller troll struggles to thrust up into his palm without pulling against the knot inside him.

After a few desperate thrusts, Dictatious comes with a shout, thighs shaking with the effort to stay still as he spills green cum over Gunmar’s fist. It’s a but unnecessary, as the way his inner walls tighten again presses the lowering plates of Gunmar’s knot down fully, freeing them. Gunmar immediately pulls himself out to the tip, the ridged edges of the knotting plates dragging some of his brightly colored semen out with it. Dictatious shivers as he feels it run down his ass and drip to the floor.

While Dictatious’s cock is rapidly softening, Gunmar’s is still as firmly erect as when they began. Dictatious sags slightly as Gunmar releases his dick, lowering himself from his elbows to the floor. Gunmar nudges him with his nose, searching for a response, but Dictatious is too busy languishing in the afterglow to do much more than grunt. Gunmar takes this as his que to take a hold of Dictatious’s hips and flip him onto his stomach. Dictatious squeaks, shaking off the last shreds of bliss as Gunmar sinks into him again from this new angle.

At this point, Dictatious can do little more than hold onto the floor as Gunmar plows into him with the full force of his heat. Dictatious cums a third time as Gunmar works him over relentlessly. The larger troll doesn’t even pause this time, continuing to rut into Dictatious even as he shakes with overstimulation. Shortly afterwards, Gunmar bites into Dictatious’s unmarked shoulder, drawing out a surprised yelp and a new trickle of blood. He manages to hold on to consciousness for a little longer thanks to that, but as darkness creeps into his vision he can’t bring himself to resist.

Dictatious startles awake to a tongue running in firm strokes through his hair. His whole body aches, and the smell of sex and blood hangs heavy in the air. It takes him a moment to realize that he must have passed out. He can feel Gunmar’s knotted dick settled deep inside him again, and concludes that they must be at the end of round two. He lets out a sigh, stretching his arms out in front of him to try and shake the pins and needles. He’s no stranger to passing out during intercourse, Gunmar tended to last longer than him on principle, but this is a bit ridiculous.

“If you’re like this during all your heats, we’re taking care of it somewhere with a softer floor next time.” Dictatious grouses, rolling his shoulders and wincing as the bite marks break open again.

Gunmar simply snorts in response, his breath ruffling Dictatious’s hair before he moves to licking up the fresh blood. As Dictatious relaxes into the attention, he can feel Gunmar’s knot go down again, freeing them once more.

All Dictatious can do is arrange his arms comfortably as Gunmar starts the process over again. He’s not sure how long Gunmar’s heats last, but for the sake of his hips, he hopes it’s not more than four rounds.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S quick explanation for how Bular made a jump from not knowing anything about Christmas gifts to wrapping himself up (Because I couldn't find a place to stick it in), it doesn't actually have anything to do with gifts, just the paper. I have a lot of cultural headcannons and one of them is trolls decorating themselves with colorful paint (like gold) in order to solicit/seduce potential/established mates. It's basically the troll equivalent of lingerie.


End file.
